Dizzy
by Caithrine Glidewell
Summary: Dexter's world is already complicated as he begins to deal with questions from Harrison about his mother, but he's even more lost when he has to guide a very misguided intern down the path of righteousness or destruction. Dexter/OC FAMILY/FRIENDSHIP
1. Drown

I walked into the Miami Metro Station on a bright Tuesday morning. I gave a smile the other officers as they passed, dodging one here so I wouldn't knock over his coffee, catching a slipping stack of case files for a woman before they made a papery mess on the floor. Yep, it was just a typical day for Dexter Morgan. Fresh kill under my belt, the dark passenger relieved for now.

I got into the office and turned towards my window hidden in the back of the forensics center just in time to see a young red head girl twirling in my office chair. Who had dropped a teenage girl in my office? I zoned out the rest of the office, on a straight path to find out the nature of the intruder. I still hadn't wiped my computer of the evidence of my latest kill.

"Hey, Dex," Deb, greeted, brushing past my arm. I turned to face her as she bounced happily.

"Hay Deb," I returned with another fake smile. I wondered how often normal people smiled truthfully. It seemed so many of them faked happiness for someone else's benefit. The only time I truly smiled was when my knife was cutting cleanly through fresh flesh. Or when I was with the kids.

My attention was pulled back to the girl sitting in my office, still twirling in the chair, looking unmistakably bored. _Who's kid was she?_

"Dex, you'll never guess what happened," Debra enthused, pulling my attention back to her.

"No?" I question. I was almost certain I had already devised it by the time she opened her mouth again. Something about a cop who was stacking up child molesting charges by the day.

"That mother fucker? The cop who's been… you know, with all those kids. I think I have a charge that'll finally stick," she gushed, slamming her fist into the palm of her other hand.

"Yeah, what's that?" My attention drifted back to the girl. I really wanted her out of my office. She was twiddling with something on my desk. God, someone get her out.

"Murder. Another kid turned up the other day with the same MO. Only this one was dead. He slipped up dex. You, know I think maybe…" I began to tune her out as she went on ranting about her theory. The girl's finger's grazed over my keyboard and I thought I was about to explode.

"Yeah, that's great, Deb." I said, pulling my attention back to her, "Do you know who that girl is in my office?"

Deb stood on her toes to look over my shoulder, "Oh, yeah. Some high school girl who waltzed in this morning demanding to talk to you. I thought I heard her say something to Masuka about blood spatter. I think she's looking for an internship to put on her college apps."

Non, no, this wouldn't do. The last thing I needed was some little high school amateur tailing me all day long.

"I should go meet her," I said absentmindedly, distracted by the girl in front of my computer. I stormed into my office hoping to stop her before she could do any damage.

The door slammed into the wall when I came into the office and it startled both of us. We sat there in silence for a moment, her just staring at me wide eyed before I composed myself enough to reach a hand out to her, "Dexter Morgan."

The girl stood and grasped my hand, "Katherine Moore. Pleasure to meet you."

Well she was polite enough when she wasn't nosing around my lab.

"Detective Morgan informed me you wanted to speak to me about something?" I said awkwardly. I wasn't entirely sure how to approach this situation.

A smile twitched on her lips before fading to a blank, almost professional expression that looked oddly familiar to me, "Yes. I'm applying to college in the fall as a forensics major and I was hoping to serve an internship over the summer and-"

"If you're looking into forensics, Masuka's more your man." I say, pushing past her to my computer chair, dropping my bag. I double tap the enter bar on the keyboard and my password screen pops up. Good, she wasn't meddling with anything.

"You don't understand. I want my area of focus to be blood spatter."

I look up at her with a bit of confusion. Blood spatter is a rare area to specialize in, especially with so many more glamorous jobs in the wonderful world of criminal forensics. I let out an inconsiderate laugh, "I doubt that. Girl like you? Wouldn't hold your stomach five minutes. There are prettier fields in this business."

"You have no idea. All that blood? It's the only time I can really focus."

I froze. Was she really saying what I believed she was? "Why?"

I turned to look at her as she sighed, "It's kind of artistic, isn't it? All that blood? The way it pools and spreads, like ink on cloth. Or the way it mists or sprays. It tells a story, like a painting. But the blood is its own medium," Her eyes have nearly glassed over like she's been pulled into a vision, "A clean one. Blood will always act the same way. There's just something about it. I…"

"I drown in it," I finish. I knew every word she spoke. I knew what it felt like to let the blood drag you under, to find solace in it.

But she didn't mean it the way I did. She found calm in the consistency of it. She could see the artistry. She might actually be good at this job if she lived up to the words she spoke, and I believed she could.

I looked her in the eye, making up my mind in that split second, "Fine. I'll let you work with me. 3 Days a week. Monday, Wednesday, Thursday. But you need to stay out of my way, and don't touch anything unless I tell you. And don't show up unexpectedly. Deal?"

"Deal. So what now?"

I looked at her as I sat in my chair, "Its Tuesday. Go home. I'll see you tomorrow."

She nodded, "Tomorrow," and walked out. I saw her say something to my sister as she walked out and Debra threw a glance my way that almost seemed… degrading.

At least now I would have the rest of the day to figure out how the hell this was going to work. And cover my tracks…


	2. Mommy

Finally. I let out a sigh of relief as I pushed through the doors of Harrison's pre-school. This was the part of the day when I felt most… normal. Without trying, I felt like I could be one of these people, human, their children clinging to their legs. Of course I could never be truly like them. After all, I wasn't human.

"Daddy," I heard a young boy call and turned just in time to sweep my hands under his arms and pick him up. Harrison. The one truly good thing I'd ever done.

"Hey buddy. How was your day?" I smiled, poking his stomach and making him laugh. The one thing I truly cared about. I used to think the blood was the only thing that could make me calm, but him… he made me real. Suddenly I wasn't a monster. I didn't feel that need, but I couldn't stay with him forever.

"Long," He stretched out the word in his boyish voice, catching his voice from the giggles.

"Mr. Morgan," I looked up to meet eyes with one of the teachers here.

"Sister, good to see you" I nodded politely, giving the appropriate smile that I often saw parents here meet them with.

"You as well. I just wanted to make sure you would be attending parent conferences next week."

"Uh, yes ma'am. Monday, correct?" I hoisted Harrison up to sit more firmly on my hip.

"Very well. See you then, and enjoy the holidays Mr. Morgan," She nodded to me with another friendly smile as she sauntered off.

Yes, Christmas in Miami. It seemed so strange. With all the clichés of pine trees and snow, Miami didn't seem like a very festive place. Driving down the road towards my apartment I passed 4 palm trees with overly large tropical ornaments hanging from them. Honestly it was more of a half assed rip off of Christmas made to make up for the lack of Florida's ability to produce snow.

When we got home, I released Harrison inside the apartment. He dropped his bag by the front door and ran for the TV.

"Hold up, kiddo. Let's have a snack first," He ran just as eagerly towards the bar and I hoisted him up on a stool before going to hunt down a bag of cookies in the cupboard. I poured some out on a plate and filled two plastic cups with milk, setting them on the counter between me and Harrison, and leaning forward over the sink on my side.

"So what'd you learn about at school today?" I questioned, dipping a cookie in milk, and following the unspoken script of after school questions parents ask their kids.

"We learned about Christmas," Harrison said, happily, twirling side to side in his seat as he took a bite out of cookie.

"Oh yeah? And what'd they teach you about Christmas?"

"They said, we gotta write a lettwa to Santa, to tell him what we wawnt."

"So what do you want for Christmas?" I asked, nudging his shoulder playfully. Deb had already basically compiled lists for me for just about everyone I could think to buy presents for. I couldn't blame her. I generally didn't pay enough attention to guess what a suitable Christmas gift would be.

Harrison looked down, dropping his cookie into his lap. The only time I saw him like this was when he thought he was in trouble.

"I want Santa to bwing me a Mommy for Chwistmas."

"…Oh," I didn't know what to say. What do you tell your 4 year old child whose mother was killed by a serial killer who you killed when he asks for a mother for Christmas? I don't believe there was a page on that in the unspoken parent handbook, "Well Santa doesn't bring Mommies, but you know what he does bring?" I swooped around the counter and picked him up, "Toys."

Harrison still looked at me with a disheveled face, "Why can't Santa bwing me a Mommy? Taywer has a mommy, and Daniel, and Mason."

"Well, Santa doesn't make mommies. Why don't you go watch TV so daddy can get some work done and we'll write a Christmas list after dinner?"

"Okay," Harrison shrugged as I set him down.

I ran my hand down my face.

God, what was I going to tell him now?

**Sorry it's short! Pretty please Review!**


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